Musings of a Mixed Race Feminist: Mixed Race Women and Beauty Politics: A Critical C...

Musings of a Mixed Race Feminist: Mixed Race Women and Beauty Politics: A Critical C...: It almost goes without saying that when you are mixed race and especially if you are a woman, you have to confront the issue of skin color p...

Beyond Biracial: When Blackness Is a Small, Nearly Invisible Fraction

Article originally posted on TheRoot.com


Alexi Nunn Freeman and son Cheyson; Ian Stewart; Melora Hutcheson
Courtesy of Alexi Nunn Freeman; courtesy of Ian Stewart; Benjamin Stone Photography

In the past, these Americans would have been labeled “quadroons” or “octoroons.” Today their options are so much broader. What can they teach us about race in 2014 and in the future?

BY: JENÉE DESMOND-HARRIS

Posted: May 12 2014 3:00 AM

Stephanie Troutman, a 36-year-old professor at Appalachian State University in Boone, N.C., has a white mother and a black father. She has her own family's racial elevator speech down to a single sentence: "I'm a mixed woman who has a child with a black man and a child with a white man." Her 7-year-old son, Rex, is unambiguous when it comes to his racial identity and "very pro black," even protesting when he's described as merely "brown," she says.

With her 11-year-old daughter, Melora—whose pale, golden-hued skin; light eyes; and long, copper-colored hair prompt strangers to ask if she's "Mediterranean" or "Arab"—things aren't as simple.

"For now I've told her that she's a person of color. That's the best way I can explain it. I want to take it away from black and white because those are weird options for her," Troutman says. "But I always kind of knew that I'd have a kid who looked white, and I was right. When Melora was born, my friends were like, 'How did her dad's white hippie granola genes completely beat out your biracial genes?' "

Despite those biracial genes, Troutman realized as a teen that most people see her as "just light skinned" (in other words, black). That hit home one day in the mid-1990s when, in a classically tragic black-identity-forming moment, a Florida stranger yelled "nigger" at her from a passing car.

"At first I was like, 'Damn, that's kind of messed up. Who are they yelling at?' And then I realized I was the only person on the street."

Given the way she's perceived, Troutman is "willing to talk about the biracial thing"—her own mixed heritage—in certain contexts, but most of the time, she says, "I don't think there's anything new or interesting about it."

What is interesting to Troutman is the experience of her preteen daughter, who, if you're doing the crude math, is one-quarter black. She's the kind of person who would have been called a "quadroon" when that "one-drop rule"-inspired term appeared on census forms between about 1850 and 1920, alongside its also-retired relatives, "octoroon" (one-eighth black) and mulatto (one-half).

Of course, as Zebulon V. Miletsky, a visiting assistant professor of Africana studies at Stony Brook University whose research interests include the history of the mixed-race experience, explains, "A lot of times, the people who took the census would sort of guess those things."

Troutman is well aware that people still make those guesses. It's something she considers when she imagines how her daughter will be seen, and see herself, as she gets older.

Stephanie Troutman's daughter, Melora

BENJAMIN STONE/BENJAMIN STONE PHOTOGRAPHY

"I don't think anyone is ever going to be yelling 'nigger' at Melora," says Troutman. "But she does get asked what she is. She's definitely in an interesting and ambiguous space."

Attention to Americans who have both black- and white-identified parents peaked during what Miletsky calls the "biracial boom" of the 1990s. They found celebrity touchstones in the likes of Mariah Carey and Halle Berry; validation from support organizations; and—in the ultimate victory for those whose rallying cry was "Don't put me in a box!"—the creation in 2000 of a new, multiracial census category. With that, says Ralina L. Joseph, author of Transcending Blackness: From the New Millennium Mulatta to the Exceptional Multiracial, came the fading of the "tragic mulatto" stereotype and the emergence of the "millennium mulatto," along with an accompanying sense of legitimacy.

But people like Melora face a new and different dilemma. Their racial mixture can feel too fragmented for old, no-longer-politically-correct terms like "mulatto" and even the irreverent hybrids like "blewish" and "blexican" that the "biracial boom" crowd created to rename themselves. Making things even more complicated for 2014's cohort of people with just one black-identified grandparent is the dearth of cultural references providing a blueprint for how they might identify. As Ian Stewart, the 31-year-old son of a biracial father and white mother, puts it, "There's a lot out there for the half-black, but a lot less out there for the quarter."

There’s a lot out there for the half-black, but a lot less out there for the quarter.

For nearly as long as people labeled white and black have inhabited this country, there have been people like Melora, who have a racial heritage that's very mixed, either in their immediate families or intergenerationally. But "quadroon," the old term for them, has long been retired. Moreover, there's waning interest in sorting people into any firm, predetermined categories. So "the quarter" and their parents are making it up as they go along, defining themselves in ways that stretch our understanding of racial identity itself.

It's a New World for Racial Identity

"If Melora was born in a different time, if she had the option of passing as white, especially during slavery, that would be a legitimate choice. But I don't see that it's the same anymore," says Troutman.

She's right. Things have changed. Melora is unlikely to grapple with outdated questions about passing or not passing, or even with more modern ones about choosing versus refusing to choose. Her challenge, instead, will be navigating the seemingly infinite options for self-definition.

"What is different today than in, say, 1945 is the way in which we have a much more fluid understanding of race," says Joseph. She's referring to our ever loosening attachment to the strict red, yellow, brown, black and white racial categories conceived of by 18th-century German scientist Johann Friedrich Blumenbach, whose now debunked idea of natural divisions provided the basis for those who would push for biology-based racism.

Today we know there's nothing scientific about dividing up humans this way. Alongside that understanding has come an increasing openness, as the country's self-identified multiracial "changing face of America" skyrockets, to letting people describe themselves. In an implicit acknowledgment that this is all highly subjective, Pew queried Americans in 2009 about how they "mostly see" President Obama—mixed-race or black. There was little consensus, and that's no surprise.  

An extreme example of how muddy this can get: A self-confessed white supremacist attempting to launch an all-white community in North Dakota made headlines when it was revealed that he had 14 percent sub-Saharan African ancestry. (DNA tests can reveal the geographical origins of ancestors, a piece of information that is, contrary to popular belief, not the same as race.)

Today, when it comes to what heritage means for identity, there are, in Miletsky's words, "so many more options."

Options for Identity Are Unlimited—Except by Parents' Instructions

For a glimpse into Melora's possible future, Troutman could look at 32-year-old Alexi Nunn Freeman, whose sole African-American grandparent is on her black-Italian-Cherokee father's side, and whose mother identifies as a Russian Jew. The Denver civil rights lawyer-turned-law professor's skin is, at its darkest, tan. Her nose is straight and tiny. Her fine, loosely curled hair is, in her words, "like Shakira's on its best days."

Alexi Nunn Freeman (bottom left) with her sister and parents

COURTESY OF ALEXI NUNN FREEMAN

Like Melora, she is subjected to plenty of guesses about her background—Brazilian and Puerto Rican top among them. She calls scrutiny of her appearance "unfortunate." But Freeman, who spent her years in high school, college and law school thrusting herself into any and every ethnic-affinity organization to which she could lay claim, is proud to explain her heritage in detail. Thanks to the messages she received at home, that has often meant adamantly claiming and even emphasizing the black part.

"My dad would tell my sister and I, 'You're all these wonderful things, but never be ashamed and never shy away from that side, despite your appearance. Identify proudly," she recalls. "And my mom would say, 'Daddy's right. My daughters are black.' "

My dad would tell my sister and I, ‘You’re all these wonderful things, but never be ashamed and never shy away from that side, despite your appearance. Identify proudly.’

Can a parent's instructions really determine whether a kid is black or white?

The entirely different outlooks of Freeman and of Ian Stewart (who lamented the lack of resources for "the quarter") suggest that they can. Stewart, a software tester and student from Salt Lake City, has a half-black dad who, he says, "never considered himself very attached to black culture, always being something of a nerdy outsider," and didn't care to weigh in on his son's racial identity. His mom, taking what he remembers as a "colorblind" stance, didn't give him much to work with, either.

Ian Stewart as a child, with his father

COURTESY OF IAN STEWART

The result? Stewart—who grew from a blue-eyed, blond-haired baby who few believed could be related to his black grandmother to a mustached, pink-skinned man—considers himself "both white and mixed" ("the same way Obama considers himself black and mixed," he says). Sure, he knows that he has African-descended ancestors who were enslaved, but his identity is mostly informed by how he was brought up. No one perceived him as or told him he was black. "Effectively," he says, "I've had the white experience."

Looks Inform but Don't Decide Racial Identity

When it comes to racial identity in America, "The mix itself is one piece, but the appearance thing has always been big," says Miletsky. In fact, scientists say that people register race in about a tenth of a second, even before they discern gender.

Troutman is keenly aware of that at times. Like when Melora asks her babysitter to give her braids with beads on the ends. "I think it's kind of interesting because we're in a moment where there are white women in hip-hop culture who wear black hairstyles. I feel like it reads that way on her to other people," she says. "Then some of my students have said, 'If you move to the hood, you're gonna have to watch Melora, 'cause she kind of has black-girl booty, long hair, light eyes, so, as she gets older ... you know ... ' And I'm just like, 'Oh. OK.' "

Aside from the underlying message that, in the black community, Melora's ambiguous looks would give her points for beauty (Troutman is quick to clarify, "That is not a belief that I agree with"), predictions like this are reminders that wherever Melora's life takes her, people will be sizing her up—or trying to—and race will always be part of the equation.  

Freeman, whose husband has German and Irish ancestry, has come to terms with the way people will see her nearly 2-year-old son, Cheyson. "Chey is white, white, white. I like to say he has an olive complexion, but really, he's fair, with wispy blond hair with a slight curl. I think he's an absolute munchkin, but he definitely looks like a white boy," she says.

Alexi Nunn Freeman with her husband, Jim, and son, Cheyson

COURTESY OF ALEXI NUNN FREEMAN

"If I was being truthful, I'd want Chey to identify as black because of what was instilled in me at such a young age. However, I will tell him he's multiracial, and I will tell him that he's black. I will do what my father did with me and tell him about the significance of blackness in this country and the privileges he carries because of the way he looks."

She's envisioning what author Joseph calls a "politicized understanding of blackness"—in layman's terms, a "First and foremost I'm black" approach. Joseph says that this view stands out among mixed-race African Americans who, "although they don't have the phenotypes of race, are still insistent on accepting blackness as a category."

Custom-Made Self-Descriptions Come From Inside, Not Out

"Melora has never really asked me directly, 'Am I black? Am I white? What am I?' I think she does recognize herself as multiracial, and she knows that she comes from a diverse family," says Troutman. "The thing is, she's extremely comfortable and fine, whether we go to my dad's for family things, where everyone is black, or when she's around her white friends."

Troutman's lack of urgency about making a declaration is revealing of a modern attitude about race. Melora will ask when she's curious. She'll decide what to call herself and how to think of herself when she's ready. No one is threatening to do it for her. And in the meantime, nothing about her life is on hold.  

Even Stewart, whose self-conception leans white, says that any children he has with his wife, who is also white, would decide what to call themselves. "Of course it would be up to them to determine," he says. "I wouldn't want to hide anything, and I hope they would embrace their [black] heritage at least to the extent of being able to say, 'Yeah, this is where I came from, and it's only by accident of birth that I don't have to worry about every interaction with the police, etc.' "

Freeman, too, expects that little blond Cheyson will "spell everything out" when it comes to his background. But she's more concerned about what that heritage, especially the African-American part, means for who he is. "I hope he stands for justice, equity and fairness. Regardless of how he identifies racially, I want him to understand oppression, structural barriers and the like. I want him to realize we don't live in a colorblind society and that race—not just class—still very much matters," she says.

Troutman plans to communicate a similar message to her daughter: "I think Melora will understand she's a woman of color even though she's light. She'll understand that she has this history and it means something."

In their hopes for their children, there's a two-part mantra that's perhaps a peek at the future of racial identity for all of us: "It's up to me, and it matters."

Editor's note: Also check out the accompanying slideshow, "When Black Is Nearly Invisible: Photos."

Jenée Desmond-Harris is The Root’s senior staff writer. Follow her on Twitter.

Like The Root on Facebook. Follow us on Twitter.

Mixed: beaten for looking "too white" - The Race Card Project

Mixed: beaten for looking "too white" - The Race Card Project

Tonight makes three years since my assault. There was blood on the sidewalk when I walked to work this morning. Three people were just shot a mile away. I can’t make sense of this violence, why we turn inwards and hurt each other.

- See more at: http://theracecardproject.com/mixed-beaten-for-looking-too-white/#sthash.pVnnat36.dpuf

Faces of Loving: Life as an Interracial Couple in Contemporary America

Zebulon Miletsky
@BlackBiracial

A good friend of mine, Patrick Jones, who is a noted historian of race and teaches African-American history at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln was asked by a reporter to lend his thoughts about what it felt like to live as an inter-racial couple in contemporary America for the Lincoln Journal Star. Patrick lives in Omaha with his wife, Andrea, who is African-American, and their daughter, Zora. Patrick was born in Baltimore, Maryland, and grew up in Cleveland, Ohio. He researches, writes and teaches about the civil rights/Black Power era, America in the 1960s, race relations, urban inequality, social movements, electoral politics, African American experience in the "Jazz Age," and post-WWII American popular culture and is the author of an award-winning book, The Selma of the North: Civil Rights Insurgency in Milwaukee. His wife, Andrea, is a physician, and a native of Omaha. She comes from a interracial family herself and is a graduate of the University of Nebraska at Lincoln, where she attended for her undergraduate degree as well as an M.D. Although the newspaper only published a portion of his comments, here is the full version of what Patrick wrote to JoAnne Young, the reporter, when she asked him to give some thoughts:


Our experience as an inter-racial couple in contemporary Omaha is no doubt dramatically different than most inter-racial couples prior to 1963. My wife and I do not confront the same overt challenges in housing, banking, medical care, etc., that those of a previous generation did. Nor do we face a popular culture that is as demeaning or disapproving of inter-racial relationships as they faced, though stereotypes and opposition do continue to exist. We live in the midst of a demographic transformation taking place in the United States that signals the rise of a truly multi-racial, multi-ethnic and global America. So, we operate in a very different context, a very different world, and a radically different historical moment, than those who came before us.

It is also important to acknowledge and factor in from the get-go that we are not a "typical" inter-racial couple, whatever that is. I am white and my wife is "bi-racial" (her mom is white and her dad is African American), though she would self-identify as African-American much of the time. The preponderance of inter-racial marriages in the United States are between white women and black men. That calculus matters and no doubt distinguishes our experience from many other black-white inter-racial relationships. In addition, my wife and I are both professional people, adding whatever meaning that class dynamic might have in all of this. I am an Associate Professor of History and African American Studies at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and my wife is a second year family medicine resident at the University of Nebraska Medical Center in Omaha. Because of what I do, I am much more explicit, overt and public about issues of race than my wife is. She prefers a quieter, more private, less-confrontational, negotiated route. I am a historian. She is a scientist. We are both proud of and try to honor the whole savory ethnic and cultural stew that makes up who we are, as individuals and as a family, a stew that includes, African, German, Irish, Polish, Welsh, Lebanese, French and who knows what else. We have our own, peculiar journey through these issues. Race and ethnicity is an important dynamic of who we are, how we understand the world and how that world does or does not reach back to us... but it is not the only dynamic, nor is it often a determinative factor in our life together, as it might have been in the past. Is our experience comparable to anyone else's? I dunno. All I can say is that it is our experience.


My wife and I rarely feel that our inter-racial-ness is at the forefront of our social experience, let alone an obstacle to us as a couple, or family. Sure, we have specific moments: The shifty looks or peculiar behavior that are hard to interpret, but which raise that extra-sensory caution in your mind; the white friend that confides in us that his working-class father would not approve of our marriage; the African American friend who tells me over lunch that he is only now [in his 40s] becoming more accepting of inter-racial relationships, in large measure because his teenage children, who are much more multi-racial in their outlook than he is, are beginning to date; the well-meaning, but strange, comments white people make about how "naturally beautiful" multi-racial children are; the (patronizing) unearned props, or cool points, we are sometimes given as an inter-racial couple, just because we are an inter-racial couple; or, the uncomfortable stories that have come up from time to time at family gatherings about relatives who were racist. And, who knows what goes on behind the curtain, or beyond our gaze, what people say or do when we are not there? That is beyond our control, so we do not dwell too much on it. Certainly, as a "white guy who does race" as a scholar, teacher and citizen, I sometimes contend with dismissive or attacking remarks by colleagues and community-members challenging my perspective, authority or intent because I "married black," or because my wife did not. There are a lot of political, cultural and historical issues at work in each of these reactions that require deeper exploration than is possible here. In general, we accept the occasional moments where our inter-racial-ness becomes salient in our social interactions as a part of the reality of our life in the United States in this particular historical moment and try to work through them as they arise. We are fortunate to have a wonderful multi-racial circle of friends and family who are strong and loyal in their support of our relationship. On balance, the diversity of our combined history is far and away a great asset, a source of joy, pride and wisdom.



We do feel strongly that there are important parallels between our history as an inter-racial couple and the struggle it took to get full marriage equality across the color line, and the contemporary, on-going struggle for full marriage equality for gays and lesbians. In fact, we wrote and printed in our wedding program the following statement that expresses our core sentiments on the issue and how we see it relating to inter-racial relationships:




A special note from the bride & groom: It is with so much joy that we have gathered here today to celebrate our union together in love and happiness. We are deeply grateful to all of you for being a part of this ceremony and for the unconditional support each of you has extended to us as our (unorthodox) relationship has grown from a vulnerable, green shoot poking through fertile soil into a strong and mighty tree, rooted firmly in the ground, reaching its various branches toward the limitless sky. We understand that our individual relationship is strengthened and nurtured by this community of support. As an interracial couple, we are well aware of the (recent) troubled, discriminatory history of marriage in the United States, both in civil law and within various religious traditions. We are mindful that many thousands before us were not afforded the freedom to pursue their love as their hearts dictated. We are conscious that many paid a cost, sometimes with their lives, for the love they shared across the color line. Today, as we consecrate our own love before you, we pay special, living tribute to Mildred and Richard Loving, whose courageous actions led to the historic 1967 U.S. Supreme Court decision, Loving v. Virginia, which declared state laws barring inter-racial relationships unconstitutional. We are also acutely aware on this day, as we celebrate our love together, that many of our fellow-citizens are still unable to enjoy the same rights and privileges. With this in mind, we want to make clear that we stand in solidarity with the idea that the basis of marriage is the love, fidelity and commitment shared between two people, regardless of race, gender or sexuality. We stand in solidarity with all of those struggling for full civil and spiritual equality for our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters. God’s love is limitless and includes everyone. We believe that all of the diversity in the world is a part of God’s grand mosaic of life, and invested with the same basic dignity. We are proud and humbled to be a part of a spiritual community at First United Methodist Church that is open and affirming, a prophetic voice for justice, equality and the transformative power of love. And, at the root of our celebration today is LOVE, the most profound, creative and just force in the universe. Yet, we live in a world torn by inequality, poverty, violence and war. On our special day of love and union, we would like to raise up a prayer for peace and justice in our personal relationships, in our national policies and priorities and in the interactions of people and societies across the globe. May the joy we feel today flow outward into the world as a healing force of truth and wisdom. May the energy created through our union and the loving circle of family and friends gathered here, inspire each of us to celebrate our human diversity and work toward alleviating inequality, poverty and injustice, and finally ending the human tragedy of war. This is our prayer for this day.

The Family Jones

[Editor's Note:] Shortly after having written this the Jones family recently posted this message and picture in solidarity with an interracial family which was being terrorized in nearby Council Bluffs, Iowa. "Extremely distressing development just across the river from Omaha in Council Bluffs where it appears that a bi-racial couple had their home burned down in a hate crime. 'Authorities say it's clear it was a hate crime because a racial slur was spray-painted in the living room of the house...'" Council Bluffs arson victims shocked to be target of possible hate crime - Omaha.com

Walter Francis White, 1893-1955

Walter Francis White (July 1, 1893 – March 21, 1955) was an American civil rights activist who led the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) for almost a quarter of a century and directed a broad program of legal challenges to segregation and disfranchisement. Light skinned enough to pass for white, he used his ability to pass to investigate lynchings of blacks in the South.

He was also a journalist, novelist, and essayist. He graduated in 1916 from Atlanta University (now Clark Atlanta University), a historically black college.

In 1918 he joined the small national staff of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People in New York at the invitation of James Weldon Johnson. He acted as Johnson's assistant national secretary and traveled to the South to investigate. White later succeeded Johnson as the head of the NAACP, leading the organization from 1931 to 1955.

White oversaw the plans and organizational structure of the fight against publicsegregation. He worked with President Truman on desegregating the armed forces after the Second World War and gave him a draft for the Executive Order to implement this. Under White's leadership, the NAACP set up the Legal Defense Fund, which raised numerous legal challenges to segregation anddisfranchisement, and achieved many successes. Among these was the Supreme Court ruling in Brown v. Board of Education(1954), which determined that segregated education was inherently unequal. White also quintupled NAACP membership to nearly 500,000.^[1]

The Cheerios Debate: Was it Hate for Race Mixing or Just Plain Old Racism?

First, on the racism that was spewed on the internet in response to a cheerios advertisement which featured a black and white couple and their biracial daughter as casually and normally as commercials have always depicted all white perfect suburban families and more recently all-black and latino ones, I think it's a reminder both that post-racial America is a myth -- there is still racism and the internet and social media, because of their anonymity, has sadly more than demonstrated that - but it's also a reminder to mixed race folks that the racism is anti-black first and foremost, not necessary anti- mixed. And to push this as a potential "mixed race" galvanizing issue -- targeting interracial families is short sighted. In other words, this is not mixed race racism .. It is at end of day, as Jared Sexton calls Antiblackness.

It is not and has never been enough to simply tell the truth about Mixed Race in America and be effective in convincing folks about our struggle as multiracials... This was evidenced not only in the reflective "truth" of the cheerios ad, which came out just on the heels of the news that more Americans now consider themselves multiracial than ever before, but also around the celebration of so-called "Loving Day" which celebrates the interracial marriage of Mildred and Richard Loving.

Loving Day is an annual celebration held on June 12, the anniversary of the 1967 United States Supreme Court decision Loving v. Virginia which struck down all anti-miscegenation laws remaining in sixteen U.S. states.  In the United States, anti-miscegenation laws were U.S. state laws banning interracial marriage, mainly forbidding marriage between non-whites and whites. The case was brought by Mildred Loving, a black woman, and Richard Loving, a white man, who had been sentenced to a year in prison.  The decision was followed by an increase in interracial marriages in the U.S., although not necessarily all "black/white" ones, and is remembered annually on Loving Day, June 12th.

The Lovings were arrested in Virginia for supposedly having violated the state's anti-miscegenation statute, the Racial Integrity Act of 1924, which prohibited marriage between people classified as "white" and people classified as "colored." The Supreme Court's unanimous decision held this prohibition was unconstitutional, overturning Pace v. Alabama (1883) and ending all race-based legal restrictions on marriage in the United States.  The story is quite complicated and mixed race activists have been trying to find ways to teach this history to everyday Americans.

But is simply telling the truth of this monumental achievement enough to pierce the consciousness of most Americans?   Mixing has been going on so long and it's like-- nothing, not a dent. How can we fit the struggle into a tweet, or a soundbite as they used to say? It is an important question because the message about what this struggle has been about is finally starting to get through... Thanks largely I might add to what Steven F. Riley has done with Mixed Race Studies.org. What I would like to know is what can we do to get more black folk supportive of things like Loving Day because if all of this were about the "truth", then approximately 85% of the African-American population should be supportive of Loving Day, multiracialism, checking both boxes on the census, and half the other things we talk about in this group -- since that is roughly the population of African Anericans mixed with some other race-- hence multiracial. Yet, as we know, many (though not all) African-Anericans largely ignore these kinds of efforts or are unsupportive at best, unless they themselves are first-gen mixed or are in interracial relationships. How do we fit that into a tweet? Because until this movement finds a way to tie itself to blackness in a way that resonates and excites in the larger black community, it will always be at odds with some very long standing and important forces in our society. Yes, better believe it. We need to continue to find creative ways to push this work and sadly, the slippery "truth" as Fanshen Cox called it may not always be completely at the heart of it. And, actually, as Andrew Jolivette has pointed out, epistemologically speaking, it is not incorrect to say that Loving made interracial marriage in the US legal. I think to NOT say it that way also undermines the struggle of the Lovings.

Marcia Alesan Dawkins: Giving Loving Day Its Due

Original Article:Marcia Alesan Dawkins: Giving Loving Day Its Due - Truthdig

Giving Loving Day Its Due

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Posted on Jun 11, 2011

Associated Press

Namesakes: Mildred Loving and her husband Richard in 1965.

By Marcia Alesan Dawkins

If you’re reading this, then you’ve probably been invited to commemorate or at least think about Loving Day this year. And with good reason. In 1958, newlyweds Mildred Jeter and Richard Loving were indicted on charges of violating Virginia’s ban on interracial marriages and were banished from their home state. The U.S. Supreme Court overturned the law in 1967.

Many multiracial individuals and interracial couples celebrate the anniversary of the Loving v. Virginiadecision, June 12, as Loving Day. While celebrating this important civil rights milestone, we should remember that increased visibility of interracial couples and offspring does not promise increased racial harmony. Let’s face facts. It’s very sexy to congratulate ourselves based on reports that today’s interracial families can live harmoniously in the former Confederacy. We’re entertained as we watch Khloe and Lamar’s relationship work out. It makes us feel good to think that we have overcome, that we have reached a state of racial harmony and that we are all finally equal—and becoming equally beige and beautiful.

But a desire to congratulate ourselves doesn’t erase the fact that racial mixing has been occurring in our nation and hemisphere for more than 500 years. Colonists and indigenous people married and engaged in extramarital sexual relations. White indentured servants mixed with African indentured servants and then with African slaves. And there’s a long history of black freedmen and freedwomen intermarrying with Native Americans, as well as white males (often forcibly) having sex with black females. There are the interracial children fathered by U.S. soldiers and born to foreign lovers and “comfort women” in war-torn Asian and Middle Eastern nations. Add this to centuries’ worth of Asian and Hispanic immigration and 40 years’ worth of official interracial marriage patterns and you have what many might call the recipe for a melting pot where race doesn’t matter.

Sadly, this isn’t the case. 

Think about it. If the mere presence of interracial intimacy was enough to bring about racial harmony, it would have happened long ago. Instead, laws were passed to keep races apart. Punishments, including fines, imprisonment and death, were instituted to keep people from crossing the color line. Loving Day is a time for us to celebrate that many of these laws and punishments have been overturned—and it’s also a time to remember that the racism inspiring such laws and punishments lives on in many communities. As Diane Farr put it recently, some of us continue the interracial struggle having “been told there was a right and an ‘over my dead body’ [racial] choice for love.”

Some of us have been told that there is a right and wrong gender choice for love too. In light of this, Loving Day is not just a commemorative anniversary for heterosexual interracial families and multiracial individuals. Loving Day is increasingly celebrated by supporters of same-sex marriage—a right that Mildred Jeter-Loving supported in her later years. Currently same-sex marriage is permitted in five of the 50 states and the District of Columbia, even though the Williams Institute reports that 9 million adults identify as LGBT [lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender]. Compare that 9 million to the 9 million people in the 2010 census who identified themselves as being of two or more races and you’ll see that we’re talking about a population that deserves just as much attention and acceptance. Unfortunately, reliable data about how many LBGT people are multiracial or are partners in interracial romantic relationships is hard to find. However, discussions about Loving Day, multiracial identities and interracial romantic relationship issues are taking place within LGBT communities. Loving Day communities should return the favor.

As we celebrate Loving Day, we might also remember that some people choose not to have interracial romantic relationships and that this choice does not necessarily make them racists. Take singer-actress Jill Scott. About a year ago Scott came under fire forconfessing that she sometimes winces in her spirit when she hears about black male-white female romantic relationships. Let’s add a bit of context here. Discrimination and violence have resulted in unequal racial populations and beauty standards. Our history of slavery, lynching and imprisonment has had a disproportionate effect on black males as a demographic. Black women face particular challenges when it comes to being considered beautiful candidates for long-term relationships. While many of us may not agree with Scott’s comments, it is important to acknowledge her perspective in context. That way we can create a space where it’s safe to escape our comfort zones and have conversations about race, love and relationships in the spirit of openness that Loving Day represents. 

So as we celebrate Loving Day this year, let’s do it justice. Let’s remember our ongoing interracial history, diversity and struggle. Let’s remember the truth that the Lovings fought so hard for—that every race, ethnicity, gender and faith is lovable.